


my love i’ll be fine in the morning (next to you)

by virtuosity



Category: Figure Skating RPF, Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: F/M, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:20:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27854102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtuosity/pseuds/virtuosity
Summary: One of the things she loves most about him is that he doesn’t treat her like she’s going to break. He doesn’t just accept her strength, he loves her for it. He trusts that she can take what he gives, and that if he were to give too much she would tell him. And she trusts that he would listen.
Relationships: Morgan Rielly/Tessa Virtue
Comments: 11
Kudos: 71





	my love i’ll be fine in the morning (next to you)

**Author's Note:**

> So this extra smutty smut started out not so great in that I started writing it had a breakdown but then I shared it with my super secret writing partner and she saved a sinking ship (and turned it into an extra smutty airplane). It was nice that my super secret writing partner could bring REDEMPTION to the horribleness I had written, such a mess of SNAKES you know like MEDUSA get it anyway so happy and lucky that I got to write with her (which I always wanted but would never have asked). We hope you like!
> 
> Super secret writing partner: I’m declining to attach my name for personal reasons but I’m SO happy that I was allowed to write this brilliant idea of B’s with her! She’s a gem, isn’t she?

He sneaks in which, in retrospect, isn’t surprising. 

He tells her that he’ll be home in the morning and she should go to bed, but around one a.m. she is pulled gently from slumber by the sound of Zoë jumping down, her nails scrabbling on the floor. She feels like she should probably be more worried about the puppy’s sudden interest in the front door, but the yips aren’t scared, they’re excited, and when she hears the murmuring of a familiar voice in the hall, she settles back into her pillow. 

Morgan appears in the door, holding the puppy who is trying desperately to both lick his face and nip gently at his fingers at the same time. 

She can tell by the exhausted look on his face that he’d hoped to avoid any type of fanfare at his return, so she just smiles sleepily and pulls back the blankets. She sees his shoulders drop gratefully and sets Zoë on the bed before pulling off his clothes and sliding into bed next to her in just his boxers. She shuffles backward into him and pulls his arm around her waist tightly. He nestles his face into the back of her neck and inhales deeply. 

The puppy nudges her way into their cuddle and sticks her snout under Morgan’s chin. She feels his rough laughter against her back more than she hears it. 

“Welcome home,” she murmurs sleepily and feels him hold her just a little tighter. 

\---

The next morning she wakes at seven to the sound of the alarm she’d set the night before, hoping to take Zoë out and get some studying in before he got home. She silences the phone as quickly as she can and winces at the groan from the man lying next to her. 

“Go back to sleep,” she says gently, rolling over to face him. 

He’s looking at her softly in the gentle light of the early morning and she can’t help but kiss him. He tries to deepen the kiss but she pulls back and puts her hand over his eyes. “Nope. Go back to sleep.”

“I don’t want sleep, I want you,” he says, his voice rough with sleep and something that sends a shiver down her spine. 

“You need your rest.”

His hand comes up to pull her hand away and she swallows at the darkness in his eyes. “Need you.” 

One of the things she loves most about him is that he doesn’t treat her like she’s going to break. He doesn’t just accept her strength, he loves her for it. He trusts that she can take what he gives, and that if he were to give too much she would tell him. And she trusts that he would listen. 

She knows how much it means to him that she doesn’t expect him to be fine all of the time. He has a public persona to maintain, and he gets away with fighting on the ice and snapping sticks in frustration, but as the man they question afterwards, the one that has to speak about what happens, he can’t show just how hard it hits for him year after year. She doesn’t mind that he gets frustrated or sad or angry. He feels things deeply, and that’s okay. He also doesn’t expect her to balance it out, doesn’t expect that when he is down, she needs to be up. They share their experiences and their pain and their joy together. It’s not all or nothing. They carry each other. 

She knows intimately what loss feels like for athletes. For him, for them. Knows how it burns under your skin, relentless and brutal then in continual waves for the rest of your life, like grief. Regardless of what happened after, the comeback, Pyeongchang, she still feels Sochi within her, the loss and the helplessness twisting between her ribs, feels that last competition they lost before the games in 2018 under her skin. No matter how many times they did well, it’s when they didn’t that lingers. 

She can see that in his look at her, exhausted and intense.

She can't resist those eyes so without another thought her lips are on his, his hands are under her camisole and she's hitched her leg up around his hips so she can roll her hips into him, moaning at the feel of him hard against her. 

She gets lost in the taste of him and luxuriates in the solidness of him there with her. 

It tears her apart that he's home so early, that he only had two weeks, but she can't deny that having him home with her is bliss. She didn't want him home, but she's not complaining that he is. 

A wet nose that decidedly does not belong to the man whose tongue is in her mouth presses to her back and alerts them to the fact that not only is the puppy awake, she needs to go out. For a moment laughter breaks the heavy tension between them, but Tessa gives him a deep kiss with a nip to his bottom lip that re-darkens his eyes before murmuring, “Hold that thought” as she slips from the bed. Zoë follows her despite her clear wish to stay with Morgan and she takes her out to the deck where she can go to the bathroom on the fake grass they have set up for her. 

By the time she returns, Morgan has shed his boxers and is stroking himself slowly. She closes the door behind her, leaving the puppy to her own devices - something she’s sure she will regret later, but can’t find it in herself to care. After pulling off her camisole and kicking off her underwear, she slides into his lap, replacing his hand with her own and capturing his lips in a deep kiss. His hands grip her hips tightly, and she can already imagine the little marks she will see dotted along her skin when they’re done. She widens her legs to settle more heavily against him, letting him feel her wetness against where her hand is still wrapped around him. One of his hands slides up into her hair, pulling her head back roughly, and latching onto her neck. 

God, she’s missed this. He’s only been gone two weeks and they’ve certainly gone much longer, but watching him fight and grit and win and lose from a distance has made her desperate. She feels his other hand slide between her legs spreading her and he smirks at how wet she is, playing with her and clearly delighting in getting his fingers sticky. He slides a finger inside and she sighs, swallowing heavily as she shifts her hips against his hand. She’d almost forgotten how thick his fingers are. After several thrusts he slides another finger in alongside the other and begins thrusting firmly, spreading them and stretching her on each pull out. She gives a deep groan and drops her head forward before he tightens his hand in her hair and keeps it up, her gaze on his as he fucks her slowly with his fingers. 

She has the urge to circle her hips or buck against him, but can tell by the look in his eyes that she wouldn't get very far. She's not going to be doing anything he doesn't want her to today. 

He doesn't set a pace, deliberately keeping his movements out a rhythm and not touching her clit, just keeping her hair in his hand and his fingers fucking into her for no other reason than because he can. She gives in, letting him do what he wants, knowing that whatever he does, she's going to end up wanting it too. His mouth quirks briefly into a smile when she relaxes beneath his touch before it disappears with a lick of his lips and he slips a third finger inside her.

Distantly, she recognizes that the hand around his cock has mostly stopped. She gives him a firm squeeze as she strokes upward only for Morgan to grunt and shake his head. “Hands on your legs.” He allows her an imperceptible nod and she places her palms against her quivering thighs as he buries his fingers as deep as they can go, his knuckles pressing against her wet, swollen cunt. He exhales heavily out of his nose and she longs to nuzzle against him, to cup his neck and taste him once more. But she stays where he keeps her, watches his thoughts play out across his blue eyes, knows that he’ll come back to her soon. 

He blinks. Wiggles his fingertips inside her that way that always hits her right in the clit. His voice is rough and his eyes dark when he asks, “what do you want?”

The question takes her by surprise and it must show on her face because the grip on her hair loosens a fraction before she brings her hand to his, encouraging him to be more forceful than he had been before. She lets her fingers skate along his flexed forearm for a brief moment then returns her hand to her thigh. “I want you to take what you need,” she sighs softly. 

In an instant, his wet and pruning fingers curl at her hip and Tessa feels the emptiness so deep in her gut that a whine escapes her parted lips. He brings her closer, teeth scraping along her throat, her collarbone as his mouth makes its way to her breasts where he gives her no mercy, biting at the soft skin until she’s red. Morgan lets go of her hair in favor of twisting hard at one pebbled nipple while his mouth envelops the other, sucking briefly before he bites. It makes her yelp, even as she pushes her chest harder against him, and her hands end up tangling in the curls at the back of his neck, pulling it taut until he growls against her.

She manages to bend just enough to nip at the shell of his ear and he pulls off her roughly. “Don’t,” he instructs even as his hips buck. She can feel his cock twitch between them, feel the precum leaking from him, and god, she wants it, wants him. “Bend over the bed.” It’s hard to move with shaking legs and he slaps her ass hard enough to get her moving faster, the sound of skin on skin bouncing off the walls and making Zoë bark at the door. She wants to look at the mark she knows his hand has left but she’s also aware that this isn’t the time for reflection.

Rather than stay on her hands, she uses her forearms to support herself on the mattress, her body, save her legs, flush with the bedding. Her skin prickles as Morgan gets up from the bed and walks to stand behind her. His hand soothes the spot he spanked only for his hand to come down just as hard on the opposite side. She lets out something between a squeak and a moan that just gets more guttural when Morgan takes her hips tightly in his hands and brings them up so that his dick slides against her dripping cunt. She plants her feet further apart before he can nudge her legs wider and his gratitude comes in the form of a hand right between her shoulder blades, pushing her even further into the bed while his other hand keeps her hips raised.

In one fluid motion, he sinks inside her and she feels it in her whole body, her ribs expanding with the rush of air that fills her lungs and her cunt gripping tight around his cock that fills her so fully that it borders on dizzying. He doesn’t give her a moment to adjust, knows she prefers it when he doesn’t, but he does let her hips drop, if only so he can grip her shoulders as he fucks into her. 

Morgan buries himself to the hilt only to pull back so far that he nearly slips out completely over and over in measured, forceful thrusts that would send her onto her tiptoes if not for the way he holds her in place. She can barely move her hips to meet his even though he’s not holding them anymore and when she tries to, he growls loud enough that it keeps her in place. She’s rewarded with a slight squeeze at the juncture of her neck, soft in a way that nothing else is at the moment.

Though he’s fucking her hard, she can tell the slow pace is starting to wear on him from the way he knees her leg wider and, just as she realizes that, he’s snapping his hips faster and going deeper than before thanks to the new angle. His hand comes to the bed right by her head as the other snakes between her and the mattress, calloused fingers finding her clit with ease. There’s more of his weight on her now, pushing her ass down every time he fucks into her but she wants more. She wants to feel him everywhere, wants to be consumed by him. She wraps her hand around the one at her shoulder and tugs, grateful when he knows what she wants without so much as a look from her.

She scrapes a kiss against his pulse point as his arm comes around to grab onto her opposite shoulder as he, quite literally, fucks her into the mattress, barely a breath of air between their sweaty bodies. And then she bites at his forearm because he manages to slip a finger in along side his cock, his palm pressing firm against her swollen clit. “Fuck,” she groans, the word muffled when it sounds from her but crystal clear when it comes from Morgan, sounding almost as wrecked as she feels. His teeth prick along the exposed column of her neck before he sucks a mark into her freckled skin. 

By the time they’re done, she’s going to see him on every inch of her body and that makes her drip, cunt squeezing so tight around his cock that his hips stutter for a moment before he growls and fucks her so hard that she feels him deep in her belly.

And then, suddenly, he’s not in her at all, his wet cock slipping into the valley of her ass and his fingers returning to slide along either side of her clit. She’s so soaked that it’s hard to get any friction but he keeps the pressure firm, playing her just as expertly as he plays on the ice.

She wants him inside her again, to continue to be fucked so thoroughly, but she recognizes this for what it is; as much as Morgan needs to let out all the anger and disappointment he has at losing, he needs to feel like he’s in control of something. And she’ll let him lead her wherever he wants, follow him just as surely as she loves him.

So she waits, lets every noise that bubbles in her throat out, shifts her hips every which way as he keeps rubbing her, bites his arm through every small ripple of ecstasy that he pulls from her. 

He pants into her neck, nips at her jaw, and he throbs where he lays against her until finally, after what seems like an eternity, he pushes three fingers into her. She sobs in relief, his smile curling against her cheek as he rolls off her just enough to let her meet his hand every time he fucks into her. She is obscenely wet, the sheet below them more than damp, but all she can focus on is the way Morgan stretches her, pushes her farther than she thinks she could stand only to find she wants more.

He ruts against her ass twice before he leans back on his haunches, bringing her up with him. He replaces his fingers with his cock once more and her head lolls against his shoulder, sucking in a breath deeper than she’s been able to. His fingers come up to rub against her lips and she opens her mouth obediently. They slide toward the back of her throat and she wraps her lips around them, sucking desperately. The first time he'd done that, she'd thought it was odd. It didn't bother her, but she wasn't sure what he was getting out of it. It became very clear as he'd let his fingers slide in and out of her lips that finding a way for him to fuck her two ways at once was just as exciting for her as it was for him. 

It’s amazing, she thinks distantly, that he’s managed to keep her from tipping over the edge. She feels like she should have cum ten times over now but instead she’s just strung out, achingly close and wanting nothing more than to explode. Morgan holds her back though, stops her right before the fall. It’s frustrating and exhilarating and everything she’s sure he felt last night.

His fingers drag from her mouth to her neck, over her breasts, and across her stomach as he squeezes her waist. “Wanna see you,” he says into her ear, her body breaking out into goosebumps despite how sweat slick she is.

She tries not to show how disappointed she is to be empty once again, does her best to muffle the shakey exhale that comes out like a reflex as she slips off Morgan’s cock. She’s not sure how he wants her so she simply turns around to face him, body languid despite the pulsing between her thighs and waits for him. She makes no move to hide herself, lets him take her in wholly, completely, keeps her own gaze on him instead of looking down. She wants to see how he pants, struggling to catch his breath just like she is. She wants to see the sweat sliding down the curve of his neck, wants to see his muscles tense and relax, wants to see his cock twitch and drip with her own come. 

His eyes rake over her too, feral and reverent, and Tessa feels it just as surely as if he were touching her. Her body feels like a livewire when he does finally touch her, calloused hands dragging over all the splotches of red that he’s marked her with, the blooming purples on the underside of her breasts, the streaks that follow the curve of her ribs. His hand finds purchase behind her neck and she smiles when he simply shakes his head, “fuck,” falling from his swollen lips just before he pulls her into a kiss.

With barely any nudging from him, Tessa wraps her legs around his hips. She doesn’t worry about being chastised for her neediness, revels in the thought of what her punishment could be, and mewls against Morgan’s mouth when he bites at her bottom lip. She tilts her pelvis so his cock can slide against her wet heat and she pushes on his shoulders as he takes her ass in his hands to lift her high enough for him to slip inside. It’s a relief, to be full again, and as much as she enjoyed how he took her before, she loves this. She loves that she can pull on the hair curling at the back of his neck to get him to hold on to her with one solid hand, the other slapping down hard on her ass, three times in quick succession. She loves that she feels weightless, the way that he fucks into her reminding her of the way she feels like she’s floating on the ice, her lungs burning just the same.

But what she loves most of all is being able to kiss him with the ferocity that she knows he needs right at this moment. She can feel it in the way his muscles pull, the set of his brow, the testing in his eyes, so startlingly blue. As much as he wants to get out all the disappointment and anger, he wants the push back. And she’ll give it until he needs the win.

It’s indulgent and rough, their teeth knocking together and her nails leaving crescents in his skin as his fingers paint her body red in their wake. His hand skates up to her neck again, only this time his thumb curls around her throat and lays heavy on her pulse point. She tilts her hips, hooked feet digging into Morgan’s back to help him thrust into her harder and deeper. “I want you to wreck me,” she moans, her hands holding his face. 

He growls and kisses her once more and she lets her weight shift as she falls backward to the bed. He stays up, still fucking into her roughly, harder and harder, his body not missing a beat. She hooks her legs over his shoulders, lies back on the bed with her arms resting beside her head and lets him have her. It's not long before she’s grasping at the sheets beneath her as her back arches. The concentration on his face deepens the closer she gets, her cunt gripping his cock like a vice grip, and it's as though his sole purpose in the world right now is to fuck her until she comes for him. She has no choice but to and he fucks her through it, his pace not faltering at all as he continues to pound into her. The desperation that's eating him inside keeps his thrusts steady and punishing. His hands have tightened on her hips as he pulls her onto his cock again and again.

She knows that he won't be satisfied until she's fucked raw and limp with pleasure and the realisation sends her hips bucking against him. He’s processing his own feelings by giving her pleasure - each orgasm another outlet for him. He throws his weight forward, leaning over her on one elbow and pinning her hips to the bed with the other hand, forcing her to be still and take what he's giving. 

She gets louder and louder the longer he takes her, the sounds coming unbidden and uncontrolled. She knows that he likes it when she’s loud, something she is very fond of exploiting, but now she couldn’t be quiet if she tried. His eyes bounce back and forth from her face and where he’s fucking into her, the glint in his eye making her feel wild. 

And then she’s coming harder than she has ever come in her life. Her thighs shake and she can feel her heartbeat in her clit, thinks she might actually sob at how wonderfully overwhelming it is, to be held by Morgan and lit on fire by him, to be kept at nirvana until he buries himself inside her as he comes, his head tucked tightly into her neck, groan loud in her ear. It only serves to make her twitch, her body milking him and gushing around him.

She knows it’s a cliche but she’s pretty sure she blacks out, because when she comes back to herself her throat is hoarse, he’s panting harshly into her ear, and she’s not really sure that she exists on this plane of existence anymore. All she can feel is love and all she can do is say it, hearing it repeated back to her where he presses kiss after kiss to her neck, her cheeks, her lips, her eyelids. 

He murmurs something into her skin that she can’t quite hear so she nudges him gently. He lifts his head from the crook of her neck to lay it down on her chest. “I hate it,” he says again. 

She can tell that the pain is still there but the intensity has lessened. She’s fully aware that this is only the beginning of him processing and that it’s very likely that it will never go away, but she chances a joke, hopes it lands since her brain is still deliciously foggy. “You’re an athlete who hates to lose? What are the odds?”

The air shifts and he gives her a flicker of a smile. It’s not the big Morgan smile that she can feel all the way down to her toes, but it’s something. It’s enough for now. 

They lie quietly for a few minutes, and she relishes the way her body already aches and twitches at the thought of the soreness she’ll feel later. Morgan reaches up to scratch his face absently and she laughs when her eyes catch on his forearm. 

“What?” 

“Uh,” she starts, reaching for his arm. “I may have left something behind.”

He looks down and grins when he sees the bruise blossoming on his skin where she’d bit him. “Seems so.” She doesn’t bother to hide the delight she takes in it and he tickles her lightly. “No need to look so proud.” 

“But I am proud! Go me, well done -”

“Gold medal?” he interrupts and she grins. “What happened to being Canada’s humble and grateful sweetheart?”

Tessa waves her hand, stretching out her arms then, smiling wider when Morgan comes to rub at her shoulder. “That’s out there. In here I can gloat about being the best in the world at stuff which now includes that bruise on your arm.”

He huffs out a laugh and leans up to kiss her softly. She can feel the way reality has seeped back into his bones, but she knows that it’s less than it was before, less overwhelming, less a ball of so many things he can’t quiet name held deep in his chest. She slides her fingers into his hair and is about to deepen the kiss when an indignant whine comes from the door and they break apart. Tilting her head back, she can see a very pink, very insistent nose peeking out through the crack at the bottom of the door. 

“Any bets on what she’s ruined out there?” he asks. 

“Nothing, she’s an angel, she’s never done anything wrong,” she replies. 

“Right, got it, okay,” he says, pushing off of her to open the door. Zoë yips excitedly and he picks her up, cuddling her close and breathing her in. 

Languidly, Tessa rolls over, her chin on her hand as she watches them. She’s struck by the contrast of his gentleness with the puppy and the intensity and strength she knows he carries in those same arms. A softness has returned to him, the hard edges of his ferocity and hurt blurring slightly as he murmurs quietly to the wiggling ball of fur in his arms. She feels that familiar swoop in her stomach as she looks at him. He’s a good man, at his core that’s who he is, and that’s how the world sees him - sweet, loyal, honorable, willing to fight for the people he loves - and he is all of those things, but there’s a complexity to him that he hides. 

He admitted to her once, in the quiet and the dark, that he didn’t want people to see anything less than good in him because it would ruin what he’d built - even with his family. Even now she knows that he sees his complexity, the shades of him that aren’t shined up for everyone, as a liability and it gnaws at her. Before his whispered confession had even finished she’d already made up her mind that she would ensure, regardless of anything else, that she would show him that those parts of him that he fears aren’t a reason not to love him are part of why she does. 

She shakes herself from her thoughts when she hears him whisper loudly to Zoë about all of the treats and toys he has for her that her mother never would have gotten for her and how she should remember that he loves her more and she rolls her eyes. Sliding from the bed she pulls the puppy from him, a quick kiss to her furry head, and sets her back down on the floor. 

“Come on, papa bear,” she says, nudging him toward the bathroom. “As much as I enjoy being covered in our fluids, I think it’s time for a shower.”

“Shower? I don’t know that my legs can take that.” 

Tessa laughs, one that grows deeper and more unrestrained as they walk on shaky legs towards their master bathroom. His arm slips around her waist and she reaches across him to take his other hand in hers as Zoë tries fitfully to get them to pick her up. “The tub then? You haven’t had a chance to relish in its wonders yet.” She kisses his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”

She feels his sigh go through his whole body, head hanging for a moment before he nods, smile tucked in the corner of his lips. “I know. How could I not when I’ve got you?”

Tessa turns to hug him, holding on tight.


End file.
